Velocity
by FakeDoor
Summary: A string of crime scenes have a musical connection which points to a serial killer. Meanwhile D.B. Russell and Julie Finlay deal with having to work together again after everything.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Finn wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten to this point. Not again. Those feelings were supposed to lie beneath the surface, pushing hot flashes of rage up instead. The fallout of their last kiss had broken them apart, fractures appearing in what had been such an easy relationship. There was a line firmly in place that the two of them were not supposed to cross. That last kiss had shattered everything between them.

They weren't supposed to be this close. Not in Vegas, not in Seattle, not anywhere.

Her legs strained to push her up to the adequate height to kiss that infuriatingly tall man. Her hand balled into a fist grabbing hold of the lapel of his jacket. Underneath, his shirt was still stained with blood. Finn felt him wince against the pressure on his chest. Regardless of any pain though, Russell was quite clearly not pushing her away.

"Jules…" His voice was quiet.

The nickname, he was not supposed to call her that. It was hard to hear from him, that familiarity they were not supposed to have. A surge of anger welled up; Finn pulled away. There were a thousand reasons she should be mad at D.B. and a few thousand more why she shouldn't.

_Two Weeks Earlier_

Russell felt almost relaxed. Since coming to Vegas he was pretty sure he'd barely had five minutes to himself at the CSI lab. Too often he found himself acting the part of the parent amongst the bickering staff still dealing with the loss of seasoned colleagues from among the ranks. It definitely felt strange to actually have time to sit and do some work in 'his' office.

Now if only the furniture was that bit more comfortable, it would be an almost perfect shift. The problem with being quite so tall was the chairs very rarely seemed to match his lanky frame in a way that actually supported his back. That or he was getting old.

Whatever train of thought he'd been chasing was interrupted as his phone hummed from the desktop. D.B. watched it for a moment as it slowly vibrated itself in a circular pattern – considering the name that flashed up from the bright led screen.

"Nick, hey. How's it going?" D.B. answered the phone not giving the other agent time to reply. He slouched back into his chair – his free hand coming up to ruffle his strikingly grey hair. The plastic screen of the phone tapped against the heavy frames of his glasses, a sound you wouldn't normally hear – except when the lab was _this_ quiet. "I hardly think you'd need a consult on a robbery."

-"Well, yeah. But there are a lot of prints that need lifting." Nick sounded exasperated; it was clearly going to be a long, boring job.

-"I thought Sara was with you? Don't tell me she left you with all the fun." D.B. grinned, that clearly wasn't going to have happened. "So, you wanna steal some more of my kids?"

-"Well I texted Greg before, I know he's basically sat on his ass."

Russell considered it for a second. "I guess I could spare em' for a while. So long as you bring them back by bedtime." The joke was half-hearted; Russell could picture Nick rolling his eyes, there was still a hint of friction between the two men, a clash of personalities. "Or if Brass rings something major in."

Since he'd delegated that task to Sanders and Brody this meant he was free to catch up on some paperwork. Whilst this wasn't exactly a job he looked forward – generally Russell could find something that shade bit more important to concentrate on. An unfortunate consequence of the 'exciting' few months they'd had in the lab meant he did now have a lot of paperwork to fill in. Still it beat lifting hundreds of prints.

D.B.'s presence in the lab also meant there were unofficial reviews he had to carry out – something the staff had been aware of from the beginning of his time here. That had caused some rather vocal arguments. Though he hadn't know the fiery red-haired Catherine for long, D.B. still found himself wanting her input into some of this. Despite what those above him thought these were real people in the lab; he was new into the fold. He'd barely scratched the surface on just who everyone was.

Time had slipped past him; Russell's hand ached from holding the pen. Long series of letters were in front of him and somehow it had gotten to be quite late in the night shift. His head felt slightly foggy, Russell needed some coffee, real coffee.

It was intricate process, almost an art-form. Though he was fairly often teased; called a "Coffee Snob," to steal the vernacular of a certain blonde CSI. Russell much preferred it to the crap they served in the break room – that couldn't even be called coffee.

He leant against the side of counter feeling much more tired than he probably should. But it had been a tiring few months. Bleakly he rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn as he waited for the coffee to brew.

The voice from the doorway startled him – though within a second he recognised the sarcastic; all-knowing tone of the assistant supervisor.

"Coffee Snob." Julie Finlay, teased him not missing a beat. Though with every intention of stealing said snobby variety of coffee. She'd heard the faint clattering of glass from her office and followed the trail, like a true CSI.

Russell looked up, straightening his glasses, grinning that lop-sided grin of his that was far too happy for this late in the night.

"A quiet night." He stated refusing to rise to the playful jibe Finn had thrown his way. "Feels a bit strange, if I'm honest. I've been on my toes since I came here."

-"More so since I took you up on that job offer?" Finn leant in, against him. Pushing him ever so slightly and stealing the coffee pot before he had a chance to argue.

"Make yourself at home." D.B. muttered, but made no move to stop her.

"Don't worry." Finn smiled, "I already have." She arched her eyebrow, almost challenging him to say something back. "Besides I'm sampling. Can't have a connoisseur like you drinking a sub-standard brew."

When he failed to make a comment back, Finn elaborated on her earlier point. "Also I saw Hodges in here earlier, it could be poisoned. Then he might have someone in charge who actually listens to his stories."

D.B retrieved his coffee pot from her; moved away. Not joining in with the playful banter. He seemed to consider something for a second; Finn could see the smile tug at the edge of his mouth just a little.

"That sounds an awful lot like you'd give a damn if something happened." Russell stated, turning back to face her.

Finn opened her mouth to argue with him but the loud ring of D.B.'s mobile interrupted any reply she could have made.

-"Yeah. Brass. No, no I'm free. What'cha got for us?"

Finn couldn't hear Brass' side of the conversation but she watched as Russell's expression changed to one of concentration; he was silent as Brass explained whatever the situation was.

"I've got Finlay here with me now. We'll be over in 10. Already got Doc' on call?"

With a slide of his finger, D.B. ended the call. He looked to the waiting figure of Finn. "Look's like the party's over. Got a probable double homicide. Neighbour rang in a disturbance. There's a lot of blood, and it's 'weird' Police are hanging back for us."

-"Weird?" She questioned.

"Hey, I don't know either. That's all Brass said."

Both dark vehicles crunched into the gravel of the road at roughly the same time. D.B. jumped down from his own car, leaned round the side and nodded to the waiting police captain. Back at the car he grabbed his kit from the backseat and dialled the phone with the other. Russell walked to Finn as she stepped out her own SUV.

His phone had barely rung out before Greg picked up, obviously relishing the distraction from the long arduous task of the robbery case. Quickly D.B. filled him in on the probable situation, gave him the address and told him to bring Brody.

Finn stood waiting for him to finish the call.

"We've not even had a look inside yet." She stated, as D.B. slid the phone back into his jacket.

"True." He replied, "But I can already feel we're going to need as many hands as possible on this one."

Finn rolled her eyes behind the retreating back of Russell but he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it – which annoyed her – she needed to get a rise out of him. She could feel that anger that sat so close to the surface bubble up.

"Don't start with all your Zen master bullshit already." She warned, irritation flooding her voice.

Russell had half-turned to her; she saw a faint flash of hurt creep up into his eyes. That was more like it.

She feels him move to her; his hand is on her upper arm, the CSI case is his other hand clashes against her own. His voice is so calm. "Hey, hey." D.B. chides, "Let's not do this here." He smiles, moving his grip upward to squeeze her shoulder for just a second before turning and making his way out of the shadows of the cars and to the waiting figure of Brass.

Finn is stood there for just a second, her shoulder warm from his brief touch. She's caught in her emotions, part of her wants nothing more to go over and just hit that stupid grin from his face. The other part, the more worrying one wants nothing more than to have kissed him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Slightly revised some of the events of the story thanks to certain elements of Season 13 I feel this one is a little more suited to run alongside. _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: The amount of reviews I've received has been amazing. Thank you for your kind words and constructive criticisms. I'm really sorry for the lateness for updating – my Nana unfortunately lost her battle with cancer – but I'm dealing with it all a bit better now. So the next update should be a lot sooner!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<em><br>_

The promise of a crime scene that had been described as weird by a seasoned Vegas officer drew them into the house. In Vegas, crazy was pretty much the norm. Looking back at old case files worked by the Vegas crime lab was certainly an interesting read.

At once Russell was alert; his eyes scanned the hallway as soon as the door was opened. Everything seemed normal. It was clean; everything looked to be in the right place.

"Point of entry?" He asked.

"S'far as we can tell, the front door. No locks were forced; the windows are all intact and not big enough to be climbed through." Brass replied, leading them through the long corridor of the hallway and taking a left, staying on the ground floor. "Well unless they were some sort of freak."

"That seems a fair assumption. It's too tidy already for a break-in." Finn commented, as they worked through the house, heading to the back.

"Don't worry it gets messier real soon." Brass promised her.

They were in the kitchen, Russell stood in the doorway quietly analysing what lay before him. Again it seemed to be clean. There was a smell of bleach lingering in the kitchen that overpowered the scent of the two bodies hidden by a large counter-top in the middle of the kitchen. The silence between them allowed the sounds of the street to be heard; there was a quiet commotion of voices as neighbours woke up to find something they could gossip about.

Russell turned to Finn, "Any chance you want to take some statements?" He asked her; though it wasn't really a question, but he had to phrase it that way since ordering Finn about could be a dangerous game. He was relieved when she agreed to this without any complaint, their dynamic had changed since coming to Vegas and neither of them was sure where the line was this time. That and he wasn't prepared to be the one to cross it.

* * *

><p>At first glance, there were two victims: male and female. A couple? Young. Russell took a closer look: there was a wedding band on her finger, it looked expensive; that reflected the house. But that didn't necessarily link the two bodies. Currently there was no positive i.d on the pair of them; so far they were working on the assumption that it was the couple who owned the house. An earlier sweep of the house had turned up no photos, which could mean they'd been taken or that there just weren't any. This early on it was still guess-work.<p>

Carefully he knelt down by the bodies, it was awkward in the small space of the kitchen where much of the room was already dominated by the bodies. Russell sighed, some days being tall wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He extended a gloved hand to the bodies examining two almost identical wounds on both bodies – a large, narrow gash in both necks. They were definitely large enough to be the cause of death but that train of thought would have to wait for when the doctor who was running late.

He got to his feet, dialled his phone, his attention returning to the bodies as he waited patiently for Greg to pick up. The wounds looked to be from a blade, likely to be a large knife. One from the kitchen? There were two knife blocks on the counter, both were full.

* * *

><p>The neighbours had very little to say that was of any use. Every statement seemed to be the same platitudes repeated in varying degrees of sincerity. One thing seemed largely consistent: there was a genuine amount of shock and opinions of the couple were positive. Other than that there were vague statements about maybe hearing a noise, though the times of this noise were wildly different – they were trying to be helpful. But that did tell Finn one thing, the neighbour cared enough to try and help; that was some insight into the personality of the victims.<p>

They'd just about covered the whole street, Finn glanced down at her notes – nothing leapt out. Cases had been started with less through and at this stage they were just covering all bases whilst the investigation took root. This was only an assumption that the bodies in the house were even the couple in question. Though they matched the general description the police already had. But this was Vegas and nothing was ever going to be nice and simple. They would definitely not be finishing 'on time.' She sighed, rubbing at her eyes; they'd been so close to ending a night shift with no major incident. The coffee from earlier seemed a long time ago now. She felt raw in the dawn sun; even a quiet night had done nothing to relax the tensions between 'them.'

Ducking under the harsh yellow of the crime scene tape, Finn pulled on a pair of gloves and gave her kit a quick once over before heading into the house. She spotted another dark SUV outside, Greg and Morgan had arrived sometime whilst she had been running some interviews. And she found them in kitchen, as she trailed up the hallway bright flashes lit up the doorway as the pair worked to document and detail the crime scene in the kitchen.

Finn nodded to them in greeting, skirting around the two of them as she moved to see the bodies a second time.

"Doc not here yet?" She asked; Greg shook his head,

"Traffic's pretty bad out there." He replied in answer to her question.

"When isn't it?" She smiled a little, the atmosphere between the CSI's hadn't yet reached 'friendship' – she was still working to fill the hole left behind by Catherine Willow's departure from the family.

"Damn, they were young." She commented, crimes like this were never fair but at least there were no kids involved. Glancing around, evaluating the room and the people in the neighbourhood she had talked to. "It seems a bit much for them. How could a couple of teenagers afford to live here…"

-"Rich parents?" Morgan suggested, following Finn's train of thought. She had been thinking something similar as soon as she'd entered the house. Moving out of the way as the older woman paced the room – her face a mask of concentration.

"This isn't the primary." She noted a complete lack of blood that everyone had already noticed but had yet to be documented. "Dumped or clean up?"

"Gotta' be dumped, we already tested for traces, it's clean. We think the primary is upstairs. Russell's working that one. We're waiting for autopsy down here now."

"Well I guess I'm needed upstairs then. Later." Finn stated as she retreated from the kitchen, leaving the two to their work. She had already done enough of the boring work for one night. Her talents with blood were much more likely to be useful when there was actually something to analyse.

Once Finn was out of earshot, Greg turned to Morgan and in a conspiratorial whisper continued with the conversation she had interrupted earlier. "Those two have so done it."

-"Greg!" Morgan laughed, shaking her head and checking over her shoulder they had not been heard.

"C'mon you've got to have noticed the tense looks." Greg grinned; he was enjoying the almost light-hearted conversation it seemed like so long since it had been like this. "I mean I don't get those looks from Russell." He continued, though could sense Morgan was having none of it.

"He's married." She protested. "This isn't the latest bet in the labs is it? Wait, what odds does Hodges have. Do you guy's honestly have nothing better to do?" She sighed, laughing despite herself, "Once a lab rat…"

-"Hey. All I'm saying is she gets way more attention than…"

-"Than who? Wait, Greg, are you jealous?" She teased him, as she lined up an evidence marker and snapped a photo.

"Well if you're so sure, why not make a wager?" He rebutted.

They were interrupted, as the unmistakable sound of the autopsy team trailed into the house. Dr. Robbins and David were already arguing – the usual complaints of bad driving. Greg and Morgan grinned at each other; maybe they'd be able to get second opinions on their current conspiracy. Each sure they'd be right.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I love the banter in the workplace of CSI, it's one of the things that really makes the show work. (and if it's anything like where I work the best gossip is always who's shacking up with who) Also I have to say the season finale last night was absolutely amazing, why do we have to wait so long for the next season?_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Well I see my promise of a new chapter being posted quickly kind of fell apart. I apologise for this and if anyone is still reading this story then thanks for sticking with it._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three<span>

Strange just about began to describe the scene in the upstairs bedroom. Brass had certainly not lied about that. D.B. stood back for a moment, just looking at what lay before him. There were no bodies here, but what it lacked in corpses the room more than made up for in the sheer volume of blood.

There was blood everywhere and far too much of it. The average human body only held about 8 pints; there was definitely more here than could be held in those two bodies downstairs. This could have been an 'easy' case and they'd find all the right evidence to catch the killer. However as D.B. stood there just staring at the crimson room around him he knew this was going to be a long one.

The whole scene felt eerie and out of place; it wasn't just the sight of the blood, the smell lingered too, stale, a strong assault of metal, iron in the air. It didn't match the house but then crime scenes very rarely did.

You had to stand back from it.

There was a horror here but underneath that there was this almost disturbing sense of art. Certainly there were art installations that looked like this, if you could pretend that it was paint.

A faint knock at the door drew D.B. back from his wandering mind; he turned to see Finn in the doorway. Even in the darkness he could see her arched eyebrow. "Earth to Russell." She said, joining him at the centre of the room, standing in the middle of the bloody horror that lay before them. Finn was silent as she examined the room, eyes travelling over the general pattern of the blood.

"I don't even know where to begin with this. I don't think this is the primary. There are no voids for the bodies." Russell was just sounding out his train of thought, "Even if you sliced an artery there's no way the spatter would be this high or this thick." His hand ghosted along a trail on the wall, his white glove a stark contrast the gloom of the room. Under the blood the walls were a dark blue, even with the lights around the scene it was dingy to say the least. The running commentary was helping him to ignore the tension in the room.

Finn was still quiet next to him, taking in the crime scene. Her face was serious, something you usually only saw at a crime scene. "I'm no expert on blood, think I'm gonna need you on this one. Blood Whisperer…" D.B. said to her a slight note of amusement tingeing his voice as he dropped hand back to his side.

"Stop." Suddenly she was tense next to him; she cut him off, it was too familiar.

"Seriously? I, that wasn't even…" D.B. could only mutter, he hadn't even meant anything by that one, it was so far away from their usual level of banter.

"Stop." Finn repeated. "Our code word, remember?"

"Got it." He mumbled, maybe it would just be easier if he agreed.

It seemed to work, she settled into the routine of CSI work; she was in her element. All D.B. could do was to stand back and watch as she set to work. This was her area of expertise, blood and there was plenty of it. Whatever tension there was between them tonight would wait whilst they had a job to do. Maybe that was why it was there, there was never not a job to do in Vegas. The evening's brief respite from that had forced the issue of 'them' back to the surface. They could work together easily enough on the surface, they were professionals but when they didn't have that case to distract them…His mind was wandering again.

A bright flash from a camera, she was documenting the scene. "You're right, this isn't the primary. This is staged." Another flash as she moved across the room, laying out markers. It was a slow process. But Finn didn't elaborate on her statement.

Meanwhile D.B. wasn't idle, whilst he may not have quite the same level of expertise in blood, he was looking beyond that. Past the blood if that was even possible at the moment, it seemed to have just about saturated everything in the room. The entire field of vision in the room had a red tinge that he was sure he was going to see for days. That was ignoring the smell of iron that clung heavy in the air not unlike whatever it was that had suddenly come up between them. His mind was wandering again. Eyes just taking in the scene as a whole, details were lost in the blood. D.B. took a step back, careful with his footing; it was then in that moment, as his gaze had moved down to watch his feet that he had noticed something.

He brought his hand up to signal to Finn, "Notice anything in particular about the room? Ignoring the obvious? What can you tell?"

There was almost a scowl from Finn as he had interrupted her. She wasn't in the mood for whatever game was going on now. She shrugged, "It's…tidy? I mean even downstairs in the kitchen: no dishes in the sink. I don't think my house is ever that tidy."

Biting back the urge to comment on her last remark, D.B. carried on her train of thought. "Young couple, do you not think they seem a little too young for this neighbourhood? Actually, did you get anything from the neighbours?" He had a working theory at the moment but he was playing it close to his chest, but opening it up to discussion could work in his favour.

Finn didn't even need to consult her notebook, as expected the neighbours hadn't been entirely helpful. "Not really, nothing that's gonna I.D the victims. Doc just rolled in when I came upstairs so hopefully we'll have that soon." She had finally taken all the photographs she needed for now. "Anyway what was this grand revelation?"

A pale gloved hand pointed to the mirror, "Neat house, wonky mirror? Well, that doesn't add up." He moved closer to the mirror, now that he could without being in the way whilst Finn was photographing. Bringing up the flashlight to the level of the screws D.B. inspected them closely. "Loose." He stated, as he started to work the screw out from the wall.

-"It doesn't mean it was the killer, maybe they did it?" Finn suggested.

"That is a possibility." Russell agreed, "But we do have to consider all options." There was a slight grunt as he took the weight of the mirror against him, "Any bets on a safe behind here?" He asked before moving the mirror completely off the wall.

There was nothing.

There was just the blue wall. It was stark contrast when compared to the dark blood that surrounded it, nothing else was remarkable. All perfect lines and sharp edges where the mirror had protected the wall from the spatter.

Finn had to admit she was feeling a little disappointed that there had been nothing there. However that feeling was quickly replaced by one of amusement at the slightly dejected face belonging to the silver-haired CSI in front of her. She grinned, unable to hide just how much it amused her, "Anymore thoughts?"

Russell didn't even need to look at her to see the arched eyebrow that accompanied that sarcastic comment. He had to admit he had been banking on there being something behind the mirror.

As if on cue, the all too familiar sound of Russell's phone sounded out into the crime scene. In order to answer it he passed the bulk of the mirror over to Finn and had just started to remove his gloves in order to work the touch screen of his phone when he noticed something. The phone itself had almost been to his ear; instead Russell muttered a quick and curt message to Nick who had been trying to get in on the more exciting case of the evening. Or that was what he assumed the phone call was about and it could wait fifteen minutes or so.

Silently Russell cursed that he removed his gloves and that earned him a quizzical look from the blonde CSI in front of him.

"Back of the mirror." He pointed out with a barely contained grin as he moved away to retrieve a fresh set of gloves from the confines of his kit case.

"Writing," Answered Finn as she followed the vague instructions from Russell and turned her attention to the underside of the mirror. "Red Ink? No, that blood. Look at the way it's dried." She was running a commentary as he was still busy. "Money's on this being left by the killer."

She passed the mirror back to Russell as she knelt to retrieve a swab and a test kit for the blood itself.

"Human." She told him, holding out the plastic form of the tester to prove her point. "Hold on, we're gonna need more photos." She was too busy with the technical aspects of the find to have given thought to what the writing even said.

D.B. on the other hand had only half-listened to her as he was trying to read the message of the writing from his higher and upside down vantage point.

"I want to wear a crown of glory, when I get home to that good land. I want to shout salvation's story, In concert with the blood-washed band." He sounded it out to her, knowing the words before he even came to read them.

"Lyrics?" He questioned, still puzzling this development over as Finn photographed the mirror.

"I don't recognise the song." She admitted, returning to her full height and checking through the photos.

"It's a folk song, The Wayfaring Stranger." He answered, "You don't grow up with my parents and not know that song." Russell couldn't see the connection with it yet: the bodies downstairs, the blood upstairs and now lyrics to a song hidden away on the back of the mirror.

He moved from his space, leaning the mirror back against the wall. Crossing in front of Finn she could see his face as he was concentrating on the lyrics. Russell hung his head for a second, looking tired in the dim light of the room. "This whole scene already felt too staged. The lyrics, a calling card, that's too much confidence for a first time killer." There was just a hint of exasperation to his tone, he had wanted for this to be an easy night. Instead he had a hell of a case and the lingering fallout of his argument with Finn.

"Yeah I mean the bodies downstairs, clean cuts and drained of blood. This guy knows what he's doing." Finn answered, carrying on his train of thought.

"We have to catch this guy." He stated, "He's killed before and he's going to kill again." There was a determination and seriousness in his expression that accompanied this statement of fact and Finn knew he was already caught up in the case. Had his recognition of the song somehow made it feel personal?

"We will." She told him in as reassuring a tone as she could manage, "I'd call Nick back though, we're gonna need him and Sara in on this. All hands on deck."

He felt her hand on his arm but he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. It wasn't going to be that simple.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter has been so hard to write; I know it must feel so slow but I promise we are getting somewhere. My head is in a very CSI state at the moment (thanks for the new series) so I am hoping to have the new chapter soon (and I have already started writing it).


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

"I think shit-storm just about begins to describe this case." Brass told the silver-haired CSI; Russell actually almost laughed at that honest outburst of opinion that could only come from the chief of police.

-"I'd say that's fairly accurate myself." He replied before rubbing at his eyes and sighing. Russell had just finished bringing Brass up to speed on the 'Wayfaring Stranger' case, as it had been newly dubbed in the morning's headlines. His gaze came down reluctantly to the strewn pile of newspapers Brass had all but thrown at him at the start of their meeting. "It leaked far too quickly for my liking." D.B. commented, peeling himself away from his desk chair and crossing the room to the all-important coffee maker. "Although at this point the only thing that surprises me is that Ecklie hasn't ripped me a new one over all of this already."

"The night's still young." Brass shrugged. "Anyway if you think he's killed before can we not look at a history? Unsolved cases."

"It might not be that easy, this one felt far too clean for a first escalation. But it was something else as well. He wasn't happy with just killing what must be at least four people. No he drains them of their blood and then redecorates a room with it? It's feels like a challenge."

"You think he's toying with us?"

"It's a bold statement he's making." D.B. looked up from his coffee, stirring it slowly, the sound of the spoon loud in the now quiet office. "But I've got Greg working on that anyway, tonight though, I sent him home to sleep whilst we were waiting on the results from autopsy." Finally his coffee was at an acceptable state to drink and he took a brief moment to savour it.

-"We're still waiting on full reports from autopsy and trace." He added, as he saw Brass had begun to search through the notes he'd been handed earlier.

"Y'know I'm not telling you how to do your job here D.B. but do you not think 'you' should maybe get some sleep at home?" Brass had been watching him all though the meeting and could see the dark circles under the silver-haired CSI's eyes that even the heavy frames of his glasses couldn't hide.

"I'm fine." Russell replied.

"You don't think I've worked here long enough to spot a tired CSI at twenty paces?" Brass questioned, getting to his feet and crossing the room to the much taller man. "You're all the same: Grissom, Langston. Why don't you try taking a step back? Because I tell you, right now you're in too deep and you're not going to see shit."

Russell just watched him, hearing that slight tone of anger that seemed to creep into Brass' voice whenever they had an extended conversation. It wasn't that they didn't like it each other, more that neither quite knew what to make of the other just yet.

"All that's waiting for me at home right now is an empty bed, an empty house where I'm sure as…I'm not going to sleep…"

"Barbara still in Seattle?" Brass had immediately dropped whatever argument he had been building up to. "She'll be back D.B."

"All the time we've been married; this is the longest we've been apart." He confessed, Russell's voice was quiet and raw, his eyes cast down into the depths of his coffee cup.

"Give her time." Brass said simply, making his way to the doorway. He paused and with a small smile told him to get some sleep. "I'll run defence on Ecklie for you." He promised.

The core team had already fractured so many times: Catherine Willows leaving, Nick's brief lapse as well. It was a hell of a year. They all could have done with a break, in fact even that monotonous print job was looking tempting right now that they starting down the barrel of a case like this.

There were too many questions left unanswered at the scene. It all felt too confident. That hurt to know that the killer was bold, at ease with his actions whilst they all felt like they were dragging their heels. Bogged down in sensational headlines; the need to wait for the evidence like a good CSI. But on cases like this that definitely felt like a weakness.

Russell sat alone in his office, just at the edge of the sofa, all limbs and nervous energy despite just how tired he was. The nap Brass had demanded he take had been ignored and instead the small table at his knees held the evidence of his late night work.

The crime scene photos lay before him. The rooms divided, the kitchen lay pure white and bleached, in fact the only thing out of place were the two bodies that marred the otherwise endless perfection. The bedroom on the other hand, stained in crimson, promised mystery and chaos in the blood.

He had Finn working on that, it was her speciality after all. She was seeking a source to the chaos. In an attempt to spot a pattern that they could maybe use to identify a scene at a later date. if it came to that. And then maybe they'd have a conversation today that didn't leave him just as confused as he felt right now. Him and Finn, they'd never been so close to each other and yet so far away at the same time.

He chided himself to stop getting distracted. There was a case laid out right in front of him…

There was a knock at his office door; that meant Brass must have put out a department-wide notice. More often than not a tech breezed in full of excitement and pride to deliver a handful of answers over to him.

Two voices bickered with each other outside the door before there was a second slightly more boisterous knock.

"Yeah," answered Russell, "Just come in would ya'."

There was a hurried sound of a slight struggle, probably a shoving match over who would be the first one to break Brass' ruling to stay away. Finally some arrangement must have been made because Greg finally stepped into the room.

"Err Russell," Greg was hesitant. "We've got trace and DNA."

'We've' apparently covered Hodges who now stepped into the room, a report nervously clasped in his hands.

"Guys you can relax." D.B reassured them, there was even a smile on his face he didn't quite feel. "I was awake anyway, you didn't break any rules."

Hodges cleared his throat, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet office. "Trace from the kitchen, a bleach concentrate was used to clean the surfaces, matched it to a brand found under the kitchen sink in the victim's home. There were no prints on the bottle."

-"Used what he had to hand? No, he doesn't seem like the sort to leave cleanup to chance. Did he know it was there?" Russell question, but was not seeking answers from the pair, he nodded for Hodges to continue and instead stared down at the report in his hands.

"Trace removed from the wounds in the necks," Hodges flourished by running his hand along his neck in a slashing motion. "There were traces of medical gauze found deep in the wounds during autopsy. Theory is looking like they're cast-offs from when something was used to stop the bleeding."

"Someone was trying to save them? That doesn't really fit with everything else at the scene." Greg interjected.

"No, he seems like a collector." Russell replied, "Maybe he was stopping the bleeding whilst he found something he could store it in?"

Quickly he leafed through the two reports; the two men stood waiting for something to be said. A nervous glance passed between the pair, they knew nothing in those reports was going to point them towards an identity for the killer or even towards a working profile.

Russell sighed, "It doesn't feel like we're any closer to any answers here." His words echoing just what had passed between them.

"It's still early days yet, we'll see more answers later" Greg offered, immediately regretting the words. Later meant more crime scenes…

"We don't want more victims." Snapped Russell.

"I think I know that, Russell." Greg was offended, the words from the older CSI felt like an accusation, especially when he was so used to a much calmer personality. "Besides what's this sulking in your office because we don't have answers? Even on our toughest case Grissom would never do that."

That sentiment was out there, hanging in the air between them. The name of a former supervisor dragged up and pushed into his face. Russell was surprised he hadn't heard it earlier.

-"No wait. I didn't mean that." Greg blurted out. He'd reacted badly to the turn in conversation that had come from his own poor choice of words.

"You're quite right Greg. I do, do things differently to Grissom, I'm not him." There was coldness that didn't belong there in that statement.

Hodges was caught in the middle of 'this' – was it even an argument.

"Did we get anything from DNA?" D.B. asked his voice neutral. He needed the conversation to change. It had rattled him, maybe more so because it had come from Greg. Even at their most angry neither Catherine nor Nick had thrown that one at him.

"There are three different contributors to the blood in the bedroom." Greg reported, pointing to the photos of the table-top. "Two are in the main spatter: male and female, not related and neither a match to the bodies in the kitchen. The writing on the mirror is our third contributor, male; again no match to anyone else at the scene. It could be the killer's."

"It would go with the profile we're building, especially if this is a challenge." D.B. agreed wanting to move past or at least ignore whatever had passed between the two of them.

-"Pretty ballsy." Added Hodges, in a desperate attempt to break the tension in the room.

"Greg I'm going to need you to go back the primary. Check with Finn first actually; find out who the more helpful neighbours were. We need better histories and profiles for our victims. We don't have a lot of answers from all this but we're going to work with what we've got. Maybe we'll figure out the other crime scene."

"Other crime scene?" Asked Greg.

"Well, the blood from this one didn't come from the bodies in the kitchen."

Hodges took this as an opportunity to leave the room with as little noise as he could make, which was a rare event for him.

"Got it." Replied Greg, "D…I, I didn't meant it."

-"I know, Greg." Russell interrupted. "This case is tough for all of us."

The reports lay before him: autopsy, trace and DNA had all reported in now. And it still felt like just as he lamented to Greg and Hodges: there were still too many questions and not enough answers.

Russell was tired; he'd barely been able to hide that from Brass earlier. It wasn't just the case, it wasn't just the fact his family was breaking down and running back to Seattle, and it wasn't just the fact that he wasn't Gilbert Grissom.

"D.B.?" It was one of the few voices that could almost bring a smile to his face right now. The figure of Finlay stood in the doorway, a silhouette against the harsh office lights out on the corridor. "You argued with Greg?" She asked him, as she crossed from the doorway to sit down next to him, a motion of blonde hair.

She waited for him to answer; passed the time by eyeing him up, the analytical mind of a CSI at work here. He was just perched on the very edge of the sofa, obviously not comfortable from the awkward position he held. She brought her attention up to his face, unable to miss the heavy circles under his eyes despite the frame of his glasses, just like Brass had said. "D.B?" she asked her voice soft, low and right now full of concern.

He couldn't turn to face her, it all felt like too much right now. His attention was on his hands, they were neutral territory. "I've been expecting them to realise it for so long." He confessed to her, though unable to talk to anything but his own hands, which trembled.

"It?" She asked, confused, then realising he was talking about the argument. "I'd say it's been fairly clear from the start that you're not Grissom. Grey hair notwithstanding." She was still studying him, the intensity of him directed away from her she still felt it in the rawness of his voice.

"They don't mean it like that. When I joined this team it was to heal the group after everything they did for Langston. After all the crap they were supposed to go back to how they were…" "But guess what? I couldn't keep a team together in Seattle and I sure as hell haven't done that here."

The man that sat next to her right now was almost a stranger, she knew this self-doubt existed in him but what stuck out the most was that she recognised the anger there as well. It was just that Finn didn't normally see it in other people. Her hand came out to cover his; it was now she felt him trembling. D.B. was raw and exposed to her in a way she hadn't seen before. "Barbara?" She asked him, not even expecting an answer from him.

"She can't do this anymore: Vegas, me, the cases…" Russell paused momentarily in his confession, distracted by the feel of her hand now in his own. "After McKean it was all too close to us, I…" He hesitated, "She needs space."

Finn had to admit she was at a loss for words here. "Hey." She said keeping her voice quiet, she leant into him, even sat down their height difference made this awkward. "Don't, don't get mad at me for this D.B." She warned him.

"What?" Russell asked, turning to face her as she leant closer into him and rather boldly crossed that line that had always existed between them.

She kissed him.

Her lips were soft, warm against his own. However it was all awkward angles, restricted by their positions on the sofa. That didn't matter though, Russell wasn't even aware he'd groaned until her hands were in his hair and she was pulling him closer

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hopefully this update was worth the wait ;) I definetly wanted to explore Russell's character a bit more in this chapter. Season 13 has been a prety revealing season so far; you can definetly see where i'm taking a few liberties with events - i guess this is now AU. This is the original version of the chapter, i wrote a second where she simply kissed him on the cheek (more to please my friend who doesn't share my view of D.B./Finn) but in my head i can justify that Finn would kiss him, so this is the version i'm running with (after a slight change of phrasing in the first chapter)_

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed.  
><em>


End file.
